This is a well thought-out series of pocket books presenting the architecture of various cities. This one is the presentation of 116 Budapest buildings, each introduced in two pages of text and black-and-white photographs (in the case of some important buildings, four pages). The series had been functioning smoothly in Western Europe when the Iron Curtain vanished and the opportunity arose for the cities of Eastern and Central Europe, after forty years of artificial isolation, to feature in the series. Post-Communist architecture dominates the Moscow volume; Prague and Budapest are presented through their 20th-century buildings. The twenty-seven pocket-books published so far mostly focus on modern architecture in cities from Hong Kong through Las Vegas to Tokyo, with the Netherlands featuring twice as a country. The volume on Budapest has now been available for two years.

In this book the right author and publisher meet. The author is a British architect, partly of Hungarian origin, who spent a few years in Budapest working for the English-language programmes of Hungarian Radio, if my information is correct. He wrote several articles on architecture at that time, and published an English- language book on the architect Imre Makovecz. His most recent book, on the architecture of cemeteries (Monument Builders, Academy, 1999), also includes Hungarian material. Edwin Heathcote’s vitality and interest, personal and pro- fessional alike, guarantee the quality of this book. Had the same job been entrusted to an author resident in Budapest, the result might have been a more carefully documented and more inspired book perhaps, but the chances are that the publisher would still be waiting for the manuscript. That is also part of Budapest’s reality.

A gap seems to appear between historical and contemporary architecture. At least that is the trend right now in Budapest. The Ministry of Cultural Heritage, formed after the 1998 elections, embarked on a vigorous programme to set to order the protection of architectural monuments; now there is a danger that contemporary or even recent architecture will not be given the same attention.

This gap is present in what is published too; fortunately, here neither side is neglected. In addition to the numerous books on Historicism, there are a myriad volumes devoted to twentieth-century, and quite often distinctly contemporary, architecture. Of course, one must discriminate, one cannot include everything, especially not in such a small volume. But on the model of guide books, of good guide books I should say (and I primarily bear in mind András Török’s Budapest. A Critical Guide here), some specifically architectural publications by writers of authority may eventually follow. Until such time, we should content ourselves with odd bits, and not just as regards periods: books on cafés, museums, banks, villas, etc. (These are Hungarian publications in the series Our Budapest, published in several languages), and now this small volume by Edwin Heathcote on the 20th-century architecture of Budapest. I mentioned the Iron Curtain with good reason: even the cover seems to suggest a distant, exotic country. Just as we are likely to find the obligatory two-dimensional Indian-inspired murals in connection with Mexico, in connection with Budapest there is this frontal relief (which is also reminiscent of Egypt) evoking the feel of the 1950s, the "later lamented" period of socialism. Actually, the source of the picture is mentioned on the back cover (MÉMOSZ—Trade Union Headquarters, relief), even though the text itself fails to refer back to it, regardless of the fact that the subject has an added interest: the building, completed precisely fifty years ago, was one of the best designs of post-war Hungarian architecture (architects: Lajos Gádoros, Imre Perényi, Gábor Preisich, György Szrogh). Nevertheless, soon after its completion it became the butt of criticism for manifesting the "cosmopolitan" architecture of the wretched West. Regardless of that, the frontal relief of its conference hall, in a separate block, seems to evoke the spirit of socialist realism, the art form that reigned supreme for years to come. That period is actually somewhat neglected in the book: only two houses from the Rákosi era (Stalinism, that is) have been included. A housing estate, such as the one on Kerepesi út, should definitely have been included in the interest of historical authenticity.

Also contributing to the book’s exoticism is the fact that it emphasizes the organic movement within contemporary architecture. Of course, one must appreciate the author’s difficult position here. Remaining objective is always most difficult when selection has to be made from the latest designs. In addition, this movement is associated more closely with architecture in the provinces: in Budapest, a city built a hundred years ago at a staggering speed, it is not easy to find space for organic architecture often flirting with postmodern gestures. But the author has done his homework and delivered the goods, coming up with the most typical examples. As to those who are interested specifically in the organic movement, they will have to get out of Budapest and thus need to turn to other books.

While on the subject of selection, I should mention a few buildings which could also have been included. In Semmelweis utca in central Budapest (District V) there is a corner building designed by Tamás Nagy, an architect closely associated with the organic movement (1986), which could have been a prospective candidate. Failing that, the parsonage of the Lutheran Church (1993) in Régi Fóti út 73, District XV, by the same architect, is clearly a worthy candidate, primarily on account of its fine details.

One of my favourites is also in District V: the office building of the Savings Bank (OTP, originally Chemolimpex headquarters and OTP Bank, Deák Ferenc utca 7/9, architect: Zoltán Gulyás). I am of course aware of the fact that this building has had predecessors both in the USA and in Europe, but that takes nothing away from its merits. The handling of volume allows to the building to blend in well with the turn-of-the-century houses so typical of Budapest; also worth mentioning in connection with this house are the details, which are of course different from those associated with architecture in a historicist style. Built precisely one decade later, the furniture store DOMUS (Róbert Károly körút 67, District XIII, architects: Antal Lázár and Péter Reimholz, 1974) deserves credit for both its striking outside appearance and its inner spaces of very large span, a functional requirement in this case. I would like to mention two more houses from more recent times: the poetically composed small homes in Ellák utca 2, District II (architect: István Janáky), and the block of flats with twelve flats and an atrium in Viznyelő utca 6, District III (architects: János Mónus, Zsuzsa Szőke and Sándor Nagy, 1993), the latter already earning recognition abroad for its designers. It would be unfair to continue the list with examples built after the book’s publication, so I only want to mention it in brackets that, luckily, we would have a few to choose from. One good thing about books such as this is that they eventually become obsolete and within a few years they will have to be revised.

By contrast, the descriptions of the buildings seem anything but obsolete; they show that the author is well-informed, and not just about architecture, but also about history and Hungarian literature even. Heathcote occasionally indulges in comments customarily confined to travel books (for example, in the description of the Gellért spa), which I personally find wholly acceptable. This approach, one that is comprehensive yet never overbearing, seems to be the most effective to arouse the interest of readers, both professional and lay, who want to know not only about architecture, but also about the people who create and use it.

Unfortunately, I could not find any list of literature in the book, which is a pity since I would have liked to know what sources the author had used. I would be prepared to wager on two books in particular: János Gerle–Attila Kovács–Imre Makovecz: A századforduló magyar építészete (Hungarian Architecture at the Turn of the Century, Budapest, 1990); and András Ferkai: Buda építészete a két világháború között (The Architecture of Buda between the Two Wars, Budapest, 1995). Although it is likely that the author had some help in compiling the information, there are no acknowledgements.

Since it is a book about architecture, the absence of plans is often annoying, especially when the new ideas regarding the layout of the houses built between the two World Wars are discussed. It is possible that the design of the series allowed for photos only, although the layout of the text, and quite often of the pictures, too, would actually have left room for the drawings. While on the subject of photos, it should be pointed out that their quality is nowhere near as homogeneous as that of the writings. Although the overall impact of the pictures is quite effective, one or two buildings should have deserved more characteristic photos. (One more reason for foreign visitors to come to Hungary: they can take their own photos.) My favourite is the photograph on page 175, showing the Arcade Bazaar. Taken from the dia- gonal direction, the picture looks just like Micky Mouse’s head. Who would have thought that Budapest could offer such a tourist attraction, and not even from the last few decades but from 1909?